


Of Scents and Mates

by orphan_account



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-13
Updated: 2005-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illyria finds someone who smells like Angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Scents and Mates

Illyria wanders the unfamiliar streets, cocking her head at sounds, sights, smells, but nothing truly interests her. Her curiosity is dead, as are the only vermin she cared for.  
The battle was not so mighty; she survived. The vampires and humans who fought at her side did not. Why is she so effected? Why can she not---

What is that scent? It clings to her nostrils, sends shivers down her spine. Angel? How is the vampire still alive? But the scent is not all him, there is musky undertones of fur and forest.

Illyria pounces on the woman, pushes her into a darkened alley.

"You smell like wolf, and you smell like him. I do not understand. Where is Angel?"

Illyria can see now that the woman's eyes are cloudy with moisture, in that peculiar way that often signifies great emotion, whatever that may mean. Illyria has no patience for tears.  
She brushes aside blonde locks, closes her hands around the woman's neck.

"Cease your whimpering! Tell me where Angel is."

"I--I don't know. He told me to run, he had some big battle to fight, and he hasn't come back!"

Illyria lets go, defeated. She turns away, and her shell slumps. Angel is not coming back. She saw the rain wash away his ashes. "You were his mate?"

"I don't know. I guess so." The woman is very close behind her. Too close. Illyria had only begun to accept this intimacy from her fellow warriors, before they were slayed. This female is touching her shoulder, softly, much the way Illyria-not-Fred touched Wesley as he was dying. Comfort?

"My name is Nina. You must be Illyria, right? Angel told me about you."

Perhaps Illyria will not have to walk alone.


End file.
